


Another Trick Up His Sleeve

by Pissenlit



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Drinking, Emetophilia, Gen, Non-Sexual, Omorashi, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-22 15:56:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22918663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pissenlit/pseuds/Pissenlit
Summary: If you don't like vomit you really don't want to read this. If you're on the fence about vomit you don't want to read thisMcCree has some birthday drinks and things go sour
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Another Trick Up His Sleeve

Things hadn't been easy for Jesse since joining Overwatch, but he'd fallen into a semblance of a routine. One part of that routine had been gambling once a week with a couple of officers and a cadet. He still hadn't decided whether the group really liked him, but they hadn't ratted him out to Reyes, and that was good enough.

During their most recent card game, McCree had accidentally let it slip that he'd be spending his money to celebrate his birthday. He was fairly taken aback with the amount of interest the group had in him, but then again there were plenty of rumours circulating that he'd been recruited before he was a legal adult. Though those rumours were true, he maintained a consistent lie that he was 21. They offered to take him into town for a few drinks at the bar, to which he agreed.

Having done his part to keep the secret, Jesse had done his best to reel in his temper all week. The young man hadn't got himself in any serious trouble, aside from the occasional scolding. All in all, it seemed that his party had stayed a secret.

Jesse didn't have much in the way of civilian clothes and had to settle for wearing work pants and a sweatshirt with Overwatch's logo on the front. He covered that up with his serape and put on his cowboy hat, and boots. Nobody had ever accused him of being fashionable and no one was about to start.

Meeting up with the group in their usual spot, the four of them exchanged pleasantries and went out to the garage. The younger officer had put in the request to take a car out for the night with no questions asked. Drinking wasn't permitted on the base itself, but it wasn't uncommon for some of the officers to go in town for the occasional drink, so long as it didn't interfere with daily operations.

With everyone loaded into the car and the base slipping away behind them, Marc, the young cadet turned to McCree and nudged him with his elbow.

"Is this your first time?"

"Beg pardon?" Jesse had a hard time with the cadet's French accent, just as his own accent gave Marc trouble. As if that weren't enough, McCree was still wary of the young man. He was nice enough, but it still seemed unlikely that anyone in the organization genuinely wanted to be associated with the young outlaw.

"Drinking in Switzerland!" Marc grinned, and Jesse couldn't help but feel that Fabienne and Pia were both just as giddy. In fact, he suspected all three of his companions were more excited about his birthday than he himself was.

"Oh, uh, yep."

Fabienne whirled around to give Jesse a devilish grin from the passenger seat, ready to contest his short statement.

"Liar. We drink together every week."

"Aw, hush up, it ain't every week. This here's my first time goin' to the bar then. How's that?" McCree smiled as he earned a couple of laughs, putting him at ease. He had slowly lowered his guard as the small group had earned a certain degree of his trust. If they hadn't ratted him out yet, then he was sure they hadn't told anyone about their plans for the night.

**

Jesse was filled with nervous excitement that he tried to contain as he'd had his first couple of beers. The nervousness passed as he got a decent buzz and chatted with his friends.

They had occupied a booth and decided to play some cards. Pia had come prepared with a deck. The atmosphere was casual at first, but after a couple rounds of drinks, Jesse was getting tipsy, and invariably much more competitive. He was bluffing more and more, and even cheated on his turn dealing. Nobody seemed to notice, but then again he usually didn't cheat when they played on the base. He did want to be able to keep his friends after all.

After an hour Jesse lost count of how many drinks he'd had, and gave little thought to the things he said. He had a vague sense that he was telling the little group too many things about his past and excused himself to use the bathroom.

Staggering along, it took him a moment to find the restrooms. He was continually distracted by the conversations going on around him, but he found a line and stood in it, swaying ever so slightly. As it turned out, McCree had lined up not for the bathroom, but for the bar. When he got up to it, he was a bit confused and squirming with the urge to relieve himself. Cursing himself under his breath, he managed a warm smile for the bartender.

"Can I get a shot a whiskey from ya? And directions to the bathroom?"

The bartender stared at him for a moment, trying to decipher his southern accent.

"Bathroom?" He pointed to a little nook that had bathroom signs above it.

"Thank ya kindly. Now, can I get a whiskey?" Leaning heavily on the bar, McCree tried to keep his vision focused as he glanced from the barkeep to the bathroom and back.

"How old are you?" The bartender had seen the young man drinking with his friends, and had no qualms with serving him beer or wine, but hard liquor was another story.

"Eighteen. It's my birthday!" Grinning broadly, McCree chuckled to himself, completely oblivious to the fact he'd revealed his real age, and with his companions so close by no less.

"Eighteen! A real man now!" The bartender smiled and poured out a shot of whiskey for Jesse and one for himself as well. Raising up the glass, he clinked it against Jesse's. "Prost!"

Smiling at the older man, Jesse didn't know what he'd said, but he clinked shot glasses and knocked back his drink, wincing at the burn of liquid fire running down his throat. Grinning at the man, he laughed absentmindedly.

"Whaddo I owe ya?"

"It's my gift to you." Clearing away the empty glasses, he pointed toward the bathroom again. "Go on. Before you forget."

"That's mighty kind of ya." Jesse's gaze followed the direction that bartender pointed. Giving a quick nod, he thanked the man and staggered off to the bathroom. There was a short line waiting for washroom, and McCree joined it, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as the beer he'd been drinking tortured his bladder.

Fortunately for the cowboy, most everyone else in the line for the men’s room were taking care of the same business he was. The bathroom was pretty small, housing two urinals and one toilet stall. As a matter of courtesy, McCree didn’t crowd the man ahead of him using one of the urinals. He needed to go, but he wasn’t going to stand directly beside somebody else. 

Though he knew it would only be a minute before he got to relieve himself, the young man was agonized by the sound of someone running the faucet to wash their hands, on top of the anticipation of relieving himself. He all but sighed as the man using the urinal zipped up and flushed.

Swaying over to the urinal, McCree bit at his lower lip as he undid his pants and took aim. As he got his stream going, he closed his eyes for a moment as he reveled in the feeling of relief washing over him. Once his stream tapered off, Jesse adjusted himself and his clothes.

Without washing his hands, the young man stumbled out of the bathroom and headed back to the table with his friends. He didn’t quite pick up on their irritation with him, and grinned as he leaned on the table.

“Y’all ready for another round?”

His companions exchanged dubious glances with Marc and Fabienne choosing that moment to sip on their beers.

“We were thinking it’s time to head back.” As she spoke, Pia started to gather up her cards.

“Wha..? Why?” Jesse’s smile slowly started to fade.

“We heard you talking to the bartender, McCree.” Pia didn’t mind being direct, she was an officer after all.

“Oh..” Jesse’s stomach dropped, making him feel terrible all at once. He was too inebriated to come up with any kind of lie.

“Yeah, ‘oh’. Finish your beer, kid.” She wasn’t rude, but Pia and the others weren’t happy about being lied to.

With a knot in his guts, Jesse drained the last of his drink and got up with the others. Fabienne and Marc were a bit tipsy, but they didn’t seem too impaired. When McCree stood up, he felt his shot of whiskey catching up with him. The whole tavern slanted to the side, making him stagger. Strong hands caught the cowboy and pulled him up straight.

“This was a bad idea.” Fabienne’s words didn’t register with Jesse as he had to use all of his will power to focus on moving one foot in front of the other. The gravel in the parking lot felt like marbles beneath his feet that were trying to make him slip. With the aid of his companions, McCree made it to the car and sat in the back with a woozy groan.

“I ain’t feelin’ too good.”

Fabienne closed his door and got in the passenger seat. Though Jesse hadn’t seen them get in, he noticed Marc and Pia were also in the car. It only became more difficult for McCree to focus on his surroundings as the car started up and set into motion.

“I feel sick too.” Fabienne hadn’t had too much to drink, but her stomach was upset by it anyway.

“Roll down your window, Fabi. I’ll be in trouble if the car needs to be cleaned out.” Pia rolled down Fabienne’s window before the other woman had an opportunity to do so herself. “You just need some air.”

McCree was fairly out of it, but he did appreciate the cool evening air that blew back from the front seat. He was jarred out of his own thoughts when he heard Fabienne retching out the window. The smell of her puke filled his nostrils and proved to be the final straw for the cowboy. Bile filled his throat with a fiery hiccup, but he swallowed it back down.

“You didn’t get that inside, did you?”

“No, I--” Fabienne stopped talking as she leaned out of the window to hurl again.

The little exchange was mostly lost on Jesse. Pulling his sleeve up over his hand, he put his hand to his mouth as he too gagged, vomiting into the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Puke ran down his palm and wrist, the hot liquid pooled at his elbow and made his sweater cling to his sticky forearm.

“Hey!” Marc tapped Pia’s shoulder. “McCree’s sick!”

“Dammit, kid!” She rolled down the back window and glanced at Jesse, seemingly hunched over on himself. She didn’t see vomit, but she had to focus on driving. “Did he swallow it?”

Completely removed from the conversation about himself, Jesse turned to the open window hoping for some fresh air, but all that he could smell was puke. Gagging again, he didn’t have it in him to sit up straight and try to get his head out the window. Vaguely aware that Pia was worried about the car, he didn’t want her to be more upset with him. Covering his mouth with the opening of his sleeve once again, he retched and sent more puke into his shirt. Vomit caked itself into his arm hairs as it poured down the length of limb. The feeling of slippery puke in his sleeve was gross, but he was a bit too drunk to really care. He’d managed to throw up on some of his serape under his chin and in the tips of his long hair, but at the very least he hadn’t made a mess of the car.

The voices of the three other people in the car slowly faded out of McCree’s awareness as he kept his hand under his jaw and slowly leaned against the car door and faded out of consciousness for the rest of the drive back to the base.

**

Reyes was up and waiting in the garage when the party pulled back up. Pia, being the designated driver, and the one responsible for coordinating the outting knew she was going to be in trouble. She got out of the car first, and didn’t bother with trying to hide the drunk cowboy.

“Commander.”

“You’re going to be responsible for this. We’ll discuss in the morning. Where’s McCree?” Reyes didn’t try to hide his irritation.

“In the backseat, sir.”

Gabriel circled around the car and tugged the door open, a scowl burned onto his face. He watched his intoxicated ward tip over as he had apparently been leaning against the door. His seatbelt saved McCree from falling out completely, but it didn’t stop his arm from falling limp, send a glob of something Reyes couldn’t quite identify flying. Following the trajectory, Gabriel realized it was vomit that had shot out of somewhere that wasn’t Jesse’s mouth. Closing his eyes for a long pause, he realized the kid was much further gone than he’d expected him to be.

“The three of you are dismissed. Not a word of this to anyone, am I clear?”

All three of them assented and dispersed, leaving Gabe with Jesse.

“Stand up, McCree.” Reyes’ voice still expressed his low simmering anger.

Muttering some nonsense, Jesse tried to get up with his seatbelt still fastened, dripping some vile, thick ooze from his sleeve.

“Is that..?” Narrowing his eyes, Gabe pulled a face as it finally clicked that Jesse’s sweatshirt was apparently full of his own puke. Gritting his teeth, Reyes supported the cowboy’s weight and removed him from the car. “You’re dripping vomit. Hold your arm up.”

Jesse was mostly unresponsive, but he seemed to understand the commander’s order. He kept his arm up and contained his puke in his sleeve as he was lead off.

**

When McCree woke again he was tucked in his own bed, dressed in his flannel pajamas, with freshly washed hair. Hung to dry across the back of his desk chair was his serape, washed for the first time in a long, long time.


End file.
